


Blossoming

by Tomboy13



Series: Butch Kara au [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Butch Kara Danvers, F/F, Homophobia in chapters 3 and 6, Supportive Lena Luthor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-11 21:16:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomboy13/pseuds/Tomboy13
Summary: Kara starting to own her inner butch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There has been some really great butch Kara au lately on this site, and as a butch woman, this has made me absurdly happy. So I thought I'd throw my tuppence worth in.

The first time she cut her hair short, it felt like she had finally pulled away a veil that she had been hiding under for 28 years. Sitting in her sister’s modern bedsit, on the solid wooden stool with 1958 carved in the underside, and looking dazedly in the bathroom mirror that had been removed from the wall for just this occasion, Kara Zor-El’s heart swelled as she looked at her reflection and saw herself for the first time.  
“Are you freaking out?” Alex asked, biting her bottom lip, the kryptonite tinted clippers held tightly to her chest, making blonde off-cuts stick to her black t-shirt. “God I hope you aren't freaking out. You made me do this, Kara, that's all I'm going to remind you of.” The agent said firmly, waving a cautionary finger at her adoptive sister, before her face froze. “Oh Christ, mom is going to kill me if you're upset. Are you upset right now?”  
Kara swivelled slowly on the stool, her eyes welling up despite her best efforts.  
“Oh no, no no no, you're crying! Don't cry, it'll grow back soon, I promise!”  
Kara sniffed, a widening grin on her face that she couldn't keep down any more than the tears.  
“The hell it will.” She whispered, feeling a spark of something akin to pride light in her rib cage.

It was hours later when the frantic rapping on Alex’s door began. Alex rolled her eyes theatrically, and heaved herself up off the couch.  
“Where is she? Did she do it? Can I come in?” The young brunette gasped out all in one breath before the door was even fully opened. The older woman placed one pointed finger on the younger’s sternum, stopping the forward momentum in its tracks.  
“Hello Alex, how are you, lovely to see you, might I come in and see the new haircut you've given my girlfriend?” She said in a high pitched, sing song voice laden with sarcasm.  
The other woman took a deep breath.  
“Hello Alex, how are you? Lovely to see you. Might I come in and see the new haircut you’ve given my girlfriend?” She parroted.  
The finger was removed. “Yes Lena, you may. She's on the couch, eating me out of house and home.”  
As Lena pushed past, Alex allowed herself a smirk - it never ceased to amaze her how a woman like Lena Luthor, a fierce and powerful CEO who regularly stared down assassination attempts, psychotic family members, and corporate coups with the same brand of steely determination, turned into a molten puddle of sappy teenager around the younger Danvers.  
The blonde woman currently sat cross-legged on the settee turned at the sound of familiar high heels clicking on the parquet floor, a smile stretching her cheeks as she did so, using the back of her sleeve to wipe cheese-puff dust from her lips.  
Lena stopped short, staring blank faced at her girlfriend.  
“Well, what do you think?” Kara tried to sound jovial in spite of the panic now solidifying in the pit of her stomach. They'd talked about it, about her cutting her hair off, about letting the butch out, about how claustrophobic she had begun to find the dresses and blouses and heels, but in spite of any and all reassurances prior to the event, this was the moment of truth.  
Lena blinked, her mouth opening and closing a few times, before she found her words again.  
“Darling, it really suits you. You look like…you look like you.”  
Kara let herself breathe properly again, vaulting over the back of the settee, much to her sister's disgust, and dragging her shell shocked girlfriend into her arms.  
Lena sank into the strong embrace, snuffling her nose at the ticklish short hairs still clinging to her lover’s chest and neck.  
“You had me worried for a minute there, gorgeous, I thought you didn't like it.” Kara whispered into a mass of dark hair.  
Lena huffed and leaned back, running her hands over the new texture of the buzz cut, and up into the hair on the top that had been left a couple of inches longer. Alex had helped her sister experiment with different styles, from a slicked pompadour to wavy free flow to a hilariously 50’s style quiff, and the product was still sticky and matted in the blond strands.  
“I didn’t mean to scare you, darling, but believe me when I say it was quite the opposite. You’ve always left me speechless but this, this takes my breath away.” Lena basked in the warm grin flashed her way, before leaning in to whisper, “You look so fucking hot like this, Kara.”  
There was a loud sigh beind them.  
“And that's the line.” The elder Danver’s voice broke through their moment. “I suggest you take this elsewhere and leave me to spend my night mentally un-scarred, thank you.”  
Lena stepped away laughing, brushing absently at the clippings stuck to her girlfriend’s neck.  
“I agree, because now you've got the hair for it, I think it's time I took you shopping.”  
Kara looked down at herself, at the feminine skinny jeans and gold pumps she was wearing, the fitted blouse, and frowned. Lena held her breath, desperately hoping that she hadn't crossed a line that the other woman wasn't ready to cross yet.  
Relief surged through her when Kara looked up, a half smile in place.  
“Lead on, m’lady.”

They'd brought shirts, and jeans, and chinos, and tees, and a few of pairs of shoes ranging from smart brown brogues to high top sneakers, and Kara was feeling pretty excited by it all. The only slight downer was that Lena hadn't let her pay for any of it.  
Kara wasn't naive; she knew her partner was wealthy, that the youngest Luthor and CEO of an ever growing business empire would spend twice the cost of Kara’s entire wardrobe including the Super suit on a single handbag without so much as blinking, but she hated the idea that she was taking advantage. Lena could have been working a minimum wage cleaning job and Kara would have fallen head over heels in love with her, and it was desperately important to the alien that the human knew it. It took constant reassurance (and the occasional bout of sneakiness on Lena’s part) to convince the Kryptonian to accept treats.  
This was why, when they were standing in the middle of the men's section in a packed H&M, hands linked together, and Lena noticed the silence radiating in waves from her girlfriend, she assumed it was in response to the mass of bags on the floor at their feet. Lena could concede that she may have gone slightly over board, but she had been so happy when, after months of emotional discussions and late night confessions on the subject of gender identity, Kara had decided to embrace the person she wanted to be. Lena wanted to show support, wanted to make sure that Kara knew how in love with her she was, and how damn attractive she found her whether the blonde wanted to display as femme or stone butch or somewhere inbetween, so she could openly admit that maybe she had gone just a little nuts with the old credit cards.  
“Darling?” She asked gently, rubbing her free hand up and down a strong forearm.  
Kara started a little, blushing.  
“What's wrong, Kara?”  
Kara blushed again, looking between her girlfriend and the stand in front of them. Lena followed her eyes and realisation struck.  
“You…do you want to get some underwear as well?”  
The butch woman rubbed the back of her neck, looking down at the floor.  
“No, it's ok. I just…it was just a…stupid thought.” She stuttered out, and Lena felt her heart clench slightly.  
“Darling, look at me.” Kara obediently met her eyes, her cheeks a deepening pink. “If you would feel more comfortable in boxers, let's get you some boxers.”  
“But I know how much you like it when I wear-“ Kara broke off, looking around to make sure she wasn't overheard, “-lingerie. I don't want you to be turned off by me. I could get some boy-shorts or girl boxers instead, you might like them as well, I mean I’ll still wear the other stuff when we get intim-“  
Lena put her hand on her girlfriends jaw and dragged her face round until they were eye-to-eye. “You listen to me, Kara Danvers. Yes, I like you in lingerie. I’d like you in boy-shorts too. I'd like you in long johns if that was what made you comfortable. I don't like you in those things because of them, I like them because you’re the one inside. I find you utterly ravishing, darling, no matter what you’re wearing under your clothes. So if you want to wear men’s boxers, we'll get you some.” Kara swallowed thickly, and nodded. To break the unexpectedly heavy moment, Lena rubbed her thumb suggestively over the pink skin of her girlfriend’s lips. “Besides, whatever you're wearing always looks amazing on my floor.”  
Kara snorted with laughter. “I can't believe you just said that.”  
Lena winked. “You better believe it, hot stuff.” This earned another chuckle. “Now, what type do you prefer?”  
In the end, they'd chosen a pack of clingy black boxer shorts, fitted tight around the hip. Kara had felt a bit weird buying them, if she was honest. It felt like the first time she brought a lesbian magazine, worrying herself into a gay panic about what the shop Assistant would think, but as they walked back to the car, the Super of course carrying 90% of the bags, there was a lightness flushing through her body, a feeling like raw oxygen that fanned the little spark in her rib cage into a full on fire. For the first time in her life, Kara Zor-El knew who she was, and was going to own it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, I'm afraid, is basically sickening fluff, and I apologise.

Kara looked herself over in the mirror for the fifth time in less than a quarter of an hour, untucking and re-tucking her white linen shirt into dark blue jeans.  
Lena watched, leaning nonchalantly against the kitchen counter in her girlfriend’s cosy loft, wine glass clasped against her bottom lip.  
“Kara, darling, could you stop freaking out please? You're even making me nervous.”  
Kara started and turned to her lover, arms held away from her body.  
“What do you think? Will I do?”  
The CEO let her eyes trail from the soft pompadour hair style, across the starched white button down, rolled at the sleeves to display muscular forearms, all the way down to the smart Rockport boots made of brown leather so burnished they appeared almost red. She bit her lip.  
“You look stunning.”  
Kara beamed at her, turning away to face the her reflection once again. Then the smile fell.  
It had been less than 48 hours since Kara had made the decision to cut her hair short and start dressing exclusively from the men's section, and so far the only people who knew about it were her sister, who had wielded the clippers, and Lena. And J’onn, in a vague way; the Martian had been cornered by Alex at the DEO before her sister had even had chance to shower off the prickly hair clippings, and had accepted the news that Supergirl was taking the weekend off with the same exasperated grace as always, not asking questions he might not want the answers to. Lena had suggested that for everyone else, it might be better to let the change be noticed organically, but Kara being Kara had determined that the best course of action was to rip the comforting band aid of other people’s ignorance away in one swift motion. Which is why they were currently getting ready for an evening at the alien bar with their closest friends, and why Kara, beautiful, sweet Kara, was moments away from falling apart.  
Carefully, Lena put her wine glass down and tip toed to her partner, wrapping her arms around the strong torso. She pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet until she was able to rest her chin against the hero’s shoulder, careful not to wipe make up on the pristine fabric.  
“I know you're nervous, love, but your friends adore you. It doesn't matter what happens, they just want you to be happy, and as soon as they see you they'll know that this” she waved a hand over the reflection in front of them “makes you happy.”  
“What if they don't though?”  
“Then they weren't really friends to begin with. But you have nothing to worry about, trust me on that, darling.Trust them. They loved you yesterday, and they'll love you tomorrow. Alex and I will be right there by your side, but you won't need us.”  
Kara reached up and placed a warm hand over her girlfriend's pale one, pained cerulean eyes meeting green ones on the glass.  
“Ok, you're right. I know you're right.”  
On the dining table behind them, Lena's phone buzzed to announce the arrival of their Uber.  
Lena squeezed the muscular biceps hidden under fabric and leaned down to pull on her four inch suede stilettos.  
“Come on then, handsome. Grab your coat and let's go, before our cab leaves without us.”

Alex saw them first, jumping up from the table so quickly that she upset Winn’s pint.  
“Wow, someone made an effort.” She said as she reached her sister. Kara smiled sheepishly; she knew she was overdressed for the grungy dive bar, where wearing un-ripped pants was considered la-di-dah, but she had desperately wanted to cut a good impression.  
“I turned up last week fresh out of a bi-annual exec meeting, in a dress that was a Carolina Herrera original, and you didn't so much as look twice.” Lena said in mock annoyance, one hand going to her hip.  
Alex snorted. “Well I can never tell with you whether that means you’re fresh out of court, I didn't want to open old wounds.”  
Lena rolled her eyes in good-natured pique. “Kara, beat your sister for me.”  
Kara breathed a sigh of relief as the banter washed over her. This was, she knew, a typical tactic that the youngest Luthor and elder Danvers had developed independantly, to be rolled out whenever they thought that things were weighing too heavily on their mutual interest; she felt absurdly grateful in that moment to be so cherished.  
“That's a bold haircut.”  
The three women turned in sync, coming eye to eye with Lucy Lane. Next to her, and in spite of the confidence of an hour previous, Kara felt Lena tense up. The Kryptonian squeezed the human’s hand warmly, asking her without words to put her heckles down. In the short time since she’d embraced her identity (“becoming the beautiful butch butterfly you were meant to be”, Alex had said, only half joking), there had been a few less than perfect moments: a man staring disconcertingly at her on the street; a couple of confused faces in the ladies’ toilets of a cafe. And while by far the largest reaction from the general population had been complete and utter glorious disinterest, for every one of those interactions, Lena had been instantly poised to leap feet first to Kara’s aid, seemingly whether it was required or not. It was both heart warming and, if Kara was brutally honest (not that she would ever admit this to her beloved), searingly embarrassing.  
“I like it.” Lucy smiled warmly, reaching out to readjust the popped collar of the blonde alien's jacket. “This suits you.”  
Kara hummed her relief, tugging at the hem of the studded denim. “It is a nice jacket, Alex found it for me in one of her biker stores.”  
The lawyer laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Not just the jacket. The new you. You seem comfortable.”  
Kara beamed. “I am.”  
James shouted from over his girlfriend’s shoulder, “hey Kara! Mrs Kara.” He grinned hugely at Lena, who smiled fondly at the joke. Turning back to the blonde he said, “Looking sharp, with the new haircut.” He waved a hand around his own bald head for emphasis.  
“Thanks James.”  
Apparently having exhausted his line of interest in his friend’s new look, the photographer continued, “I’m heading to the bar, I'll get you the usual?”  
Kara’s heart was buoyed by the dumb normalcy, nodding her assent and hearing Lena, as though from far away, ask for a gin.  
The feeling of joy dried in her throat when she caught Winn’s expression. He was leaning back in his chair to peer round Lucy, running his eyes up and down her figure, the first creases of a frown forming on his forehead.  
“You ok, Winn?” Alex asked, pointedly folding her arms over her chest.  
The man looked between them, an almost comic book visage of confusion appearing on his face.  
“This is a new look.” He began slowly. “I…like it. It's edgy, it's cool.”  
At her side, Kara heard Alex, Lucy and Lena exhale a long, sharp breath at the same time.  
“It's not…it's not a look, Winn. This is…kind of…my identity, now. I mean it always was, but I’ve just started to own it out loud, I’ve felt like this for a while and I-“  
Winn cut off the ramble as it started to pick up speed, his frown turning to full on panic.  
“No, I didn't mean that! I mean, don't get me wrong, I love that you feel comfortable to be yourself, it's great. I just meant the biker jacket! It's very…Eddie. Rocky Horror.”  
There was silence that seemed to drag out before being broken by the sound of a tray being placed on the table, glasses chinking together. James’ smile withered with uncertainty as he looked at his friends.  
“What I was trying to say,” Winn began, hands raised in supplication, “was that I am dibs-ing the jacket.”  
Alex, appearing behind him like smoke, pressed a hand hard onto his shoulder and squeezed. “You won't need it if you’re dead, Winslow.”  
His expression visibly paled. “By which I mean, Alex is dibs-ing the jacket.”  
“Agent Danvers, put Mr Schott down.” J’onn said from behind them, in the voice laced with pride at his earth daughter’s antics. The tension broke like a dam, laughter gushing from all of them like water.  
“I apologise for being late, there was an issue with last months budget accrual.” The older man winced at the mere thought of paperwork.  
Everything, Kara realised, still giggling so hard her cheeks hurt, was going to be ok.

The night had ticked on just like every other night they’d spent in the bar, with a healthy mix of pool and banter, washing away the last stubborn remnants of doubt that had been clinging to Kara’s subconscious like lichen to a rock.  
J’onn had left early, with a request that the butch Kryptonian come to the DEO the next day to discuss how they would handle the Supergirl situation. There was a suggestion of some dual public appearances, and the need for a more appropriate suit, which had gotten Winn so excited that he snorted beer out of his nose.  
Kara was on her fourth ale, the alien alcohol making her feel tipsy, watching her beautiful girlfriend playing pool with her wonderful friends, while her sister sat in the booth next to her drawing absently on the table in spilled beer. It was, for all its simplicity, a moment Kara Zor-El desperately wanted to savour, to take with her for the rest of her life like an amulet against whatever may come, because here and now, she was butch, and she was loved, and she was positively glowing with it.  
“Hey, Kara?” Alex said softly, not looking at the blonde sat mere feet away.  
“What's up?” Kara said, shuffling to lean forward on her elbows, trying not to think about what was smeared across the tabletop to make it so sticky.  
“What Lucy said…about you being comfortable….”  
Seconds dripped past.  
“Yeah?” Kara asked after nearly a minute of watching Alex moving a drop across the table with her index finger.  
“I'm glad.”  
Kara’s brow furrowed. “Ok?”  
Alex looked up at her then, brown eyes meeting blue, and the butch woman saw a seriousness there that she didn't often see in her sister’s face outside of life-or-death situations.  
“You know I love you, right? And I only ever want what's best for you. I want you to be happy.”  
Kara nodded encouragingly.  
“Well,” the older woman said, looking away again, “it means a lot that you talked to me about wanting to change. About what you’ve been going through. I know it couldn't have been easy to say it out loud, even to me. Especially to me - I know how I can be. So thank you, for trusting me like that.” Alex looked back at her sister, reaching a hand out to place on the younger woman's wrist. “And it means a lot that you asked me to do it. You know, cut your hair. I just want you to know that I think you're perfect however you want to be. You're a great sister and a loyal friend, and I will always have your back. Ok?”  
Kara blinked, open mouthed. They didn't often talk like this, opening up their feelings and letting them spew out, especially not unprompted, and she wasn't sure how to respond.  
“I…thank you.” She finally sputtered out. “Thank you for agreeing to do it. I don't know how to explain the difference it's made, wouldn't even know where to start, but there is no-one I would want to have done it more than you. Danvers Sisters for life.” She finished with a wink, jokingly tapping her fist on her own breast bone to hide roiling emotion.  
Alex nodded, taking a deep swig of beer to signal that that part of the conversation had come to an end. “How long do you think it’ll take Luthor to beat all of them?” She asked, gesturing with her pint glass towards the pool table where a minor argument had broken out over Winn’s use of the chalk.  
“I think she probably already has, she's just stringing the agony out now. That's why they're bickering.”  
The sisters snickered, heads leaning close together, and Kara felt the space where her heart was steadily beating swelling.

The clock was nudging midnight, and Kara was edging over the line from tipsy to pleasantly drunk. She watched with a slow grin her sister trying to teach James how to do a trick shot, while her girlfriend tried to explain to Lucy the physics behind it. Kara loved watching Lena like this, relaxed and uninhibited, the constant risk of a smile lingering on her features. This wasn't the woman that the rest of the world saw: a cold and calculating business mogul, tight lipped and impenetrable. Only the Super Friends, and especially Kara, got to see this side of her: a passionate and caring woman, brimming with loyalty and empathy, quick to smile and keen to laugh. The hero’s already buoyant heart felt ready to burst with love, with joy, and contentment. She was here with nearly all the people she loved, who loved her in equal measure and who had both respected and accepted her identity without so much as a side eye. This, Kara realised, was true happiness.  
Floating on positive energy, Kara got to her feet and strode towards the juke box, pushing in her dollar and selecting the song. The opening chords of ‘Loving Pauper’ began to play as she bowled, hands resting country and western style on her oversize belt buckle, to where the younger brunette was leaning against the bar, laughing at James terrible attempt to land the last red ball.  
_‘I’m not in a position to maintain you the way that your accustomed to’_ the sensual voice on the juke box sang as she approached.  
“M’am” Kara tipped an imaginary Stetson. “May I have this dance?”  
_‘Can't take you out to fancy places, like other fellas that I know can do’_  
The force of Lena’s smile could have scorched paint clean off wood as she reached out a dainty hand and allowed herself to be lead to an open space behind the pool tables that doubled as a dance floor on weekends.  
_‘I’m only able to romance you, and make you tingle with delight’_  
Kara wrapped her hands protectively around the lower back of the woman in front of her, pulling their bodies flush together as warm and surprisingly strong arms clasped behind her head.  
_‘Financially, I’m a pauper. But when it comes to lovin’ i’m alright.’_  
“Who knew you had such a romantic streak, Ms. Danvers?” Lena hummed, mouth close to her lover’s lips, juniper scented breath ghosting against Kara’s skin.  
Kara hummed in response, brushing their noses gently together. “Only for you, Ms. Luthor. You bring out my soft side.”  
Lena bit her lip, causing Kara’s stomach to flip.  
As they swayed in the middle of the noisy, dirty bar, the juke box was making Gregory Issacs sound tinny in the background; the Sunday night patrons were wandering all around them, some stumbling through the drink; and in the alley outside a greasy rain had started to fall. To Kara, holding the woman she loved close to her body, still enraptured with feeling at home in her own skin for the first time, it could have been heaven.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one isn't necessarily a fun chapter - the first half is fluff, the second half is an example of the sort of confrontation that alot of butch women will be familiar with, albeit at the extreme end of the spectrum, so miss that bit out if it might upset you!

In the months since she’d been out as butch, there were some things Kara Danvers liked more than others. She enjoyed the way her girlfriend’s eyes lit up when she tugged her tie loose and rolled her shirt sleeves up after a busy day at work, and how her reflection looked in the snug embrace of men’s boxers, the little pouch sagging with emptiness. She liked that the new suit ( _the_ suit) allowed her to show off the sculpted muscle on her abdomen, her shoulders, biceps, and calves, no longer hidden by society’s idea of what is, and is not, feminine. And she loved above all those things how right she felt in her own identity, no longer waking with the nagging feeling of dishonesty that had become as much a part of her morning routine before the cut (BC) as stretching, or feeling the dread seething in her gut when she had to attend an event that would no doubt call for a dress.

Early on, L-Corp had hosted yet another sparkling gala event, this one aimed at raising funds for a local LGBTQ homeless charity; Lena, of course, had insisted that Kara attend as her plus one.  
“Darling, of course you have to be there, you care about the shelter just as much as I do. And more importantly, I need some arm candy for the evening.”  
Kara snorted at the quip, pulling the brunette into a hug that lifted her bodily off the floor.  
“So you just want me there for my muscles, is that it?”  
Lena, Kara remembered now, had grinned hugely, palming the bulging biceps exposed by the tight white tank top the alien had been wearing, and whispered “Of course not, darling. The face isn't bad either.” before kissing her snickering girlfriend with a passion that had wiped the smile away and led to them missing their dinner reservation.  
The night of the gala saw Kara standing open mouthed in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in Lena’s impressive apartment, running her hands over the navy blue 3 piece suit, complete with a watch chain spread across the waistcoat and smooth silver cufflinks.  
Hands had eventually pulled her bodily away from her own image; lithe, pale hands, pinning a closed red rose through the button hole, and smoothing down the front of the blazer. Lena had sighed dreamily.  
“You look so handsome.” She had said, more to herself than the woman in front of her. Kara took in the femme’s ankle length black dress, with a slit almost as high as the panty-line, that clung to her hips and fell loose across her eye catching cleavage. Lena had left her hair falling in waves with just the slight hint of a Victory Curl, and was wearing obscenely high heels tied by delicate leather straps that wound up slim ankles. It was enough to make Kara question whether a gala really needed it's host.  
“And you look absolutely breath-taking, baby. I won't be able to take my eyes off you.” Lena twinkled at her, the moment breaking with the buzzing of the intercom.  
“Saved by the bell.” She said, chucking Kara’s jaw playfully. “Get your shoes on, hot stuff, that'll be the car.”

Walking into the gala had felt like a maelstrom of snapping cameras and intrigued whispers. They weren't a new couple, and Lena Luthor's girlfriend's transformation had been plastered on tacky news rags and tackier gossip sites almost before the first week was out, so it wasn't until her super hearing zoned in on some of the voices that she realised, with a blast of hot embarrassment, why they were the very centre of attention.  
Lena caught her expression and smiled.  
“Just figured it out, huh? There are a lot of people in this room who would love nothing more than to go home with you tonight. Don't you ever forget that, darling - you are stunning.”  
Kara blushed harder. She knew from what she’d heard that Lena was right, but the twittering hadn't just been about her, and a sudden and unexpected surge of jealousy rose in her throat. She was trying to clamp it down when the woman continued.  
“Don't forget either, darling,” The younger woman whispered, leaning in to her girlfriend's shoulder with a possessive hand placed on the sternum, “they can look but I'm the only one who gets to touch.”  
Kara beamed. Sometimes, it felt like Lena Luthor had a sixth sense when it came to the words that Kara Zor-El needed to hear.

The evening was drawing to a close when Lisa Cooper approached them. Kara was rubbing the last remnants of tears from her cheek following the speeches (some of them had been quite personal, and, for her at least, quite close to home), when the sound of a booming voice broke through the stupor.  
“Ms Luthor, wonderful to see you again.”  
“Ms. Cooper!” Lena cried, reaching out to clutch the other woman's hand enthusiastically. “How lovely to see you. Please, just Lena is fine.”  
“Then you must call me Lisa.”  
“Kara, darling, this is Lisa Cooper who practically runs the LGBT Youth Alliance for NC single handed. Lisa, this is my better half, Kara Danvers, a tremendously talented reporter.”  
“She's somewhat biased.” Kara smiled, leaning over to shake Lisa’s hand. She was a portly woman in an old fashioned black tux, nudging 50, with close cropped grey hair and prominent laughter lines around her eyes. Kara liked her immediately.  
“Nice to meet you.” The fellow butch grinned, before turning back to the Luthor heir and clearing her throat awkwardly. “I’ll lay my cards out early, Lena, I had an ulterior motive for coming over. I’ve got a favour to ask.”  
The younger woman’s face shifted minutely into a smile but all traces were missing from her eyes. Her girlfriend recognised it immediately as her business face, the mask she wore when she was weighing up a situation or, as required, preparing to destroy someone.  
“I'm all ears, Lisa.”  
“I understand you know Supergirl?”  
Kara blinked.  
“I do.” Lena replied neutrally.  
“I'm hoping you might be able to put me in touch with her. We’re running summer seminars this year for the kids, sort of like a Ted Talk, focusing on issues that they may experience in their lives as LGBTQ. We’re trying to attract some high profile speakers, which as you can imagine isn't as easy as it should be. I wouldn't want to assume anything but we’ve all seen the news, and the shift in Supergirl’s outward presentation, and I was wondering if she might be interested…”  
The woman trailed off under Lena’s stare. In truth, Kara was impressed - she’d seen the CEOs of other Fortune 500 companies crack earlier than the youth worker under the steely ice-bright gaze.  
“I suspect that she would relish that opportunity. I can't promise anything, of course, but I will certainly pass your details on.” Lena held out her hand, the older woman gripping it with a wash of relief evident on her face.  
Kara said her farewells politely, but her mind was already giving the talk. Because that, she'd quickly realised, was what she loved the most. She loved role modelling, as Lisa called it, loved wearing who she was firmly on her sleeve, loved catching in her peripheral vision the young (and not-so-young) women who would double take, noticing the look of confusion and excitement and _hope_ in their gaze, the look that said “I may not be there yet, but maybe if she can, one day I can too.” Kara loved that whether it was as Supergirl or as a mild mannered reporter, each one feeling equally special in their own way.

But one can't have sweet without sour, and as many sweets her new acceptance brought her, the sours would still roll across her tongue when she least expected them.

Supergirl ‘coming out’ had brought so many positives (not least the loss of the skirt; she would never cease being grateful that they’d lost the skirt), but a fair share of assholes had also tagged along for the ride. It had been hard, so, so hard, to turn on the TV one morning shortly after the gradual merge from Supergirl to ‘Super Butch’ (thank you, Lucy) was fully complete and see a full blown panel on the breakfast show discussing whether her new identity was going to fuck up the nation’s kids.  
The furore went on for weeks, discussions ranging from fashion critique to religious turmoil, and even now, 6 months later, she still saw the odd off-hand cruelty pop up on the official social media account, although Winn tried his best to hide them from her.  
The nastiness, though, was mostly buried under a mountain of support, and an entire goddamn ocean of indifference. The world at large didn't really care whether their hero was a butch lesbian alien; they cared that she turned up where she was needed, sorted the problem out, and, oddly, didn't say the F-word on live TV.  
It was harder for Kara Danvers. Mostly, she passed under the media’s radar; even when on Lena’s arm, the traditional press and the shining stars of the YouTube-verse honed in on the Luthor to the complete obliteration of whoever she was with.  
It was the more personal, intimate incidents that stuck, despite being few and far between. Oh, her daily life was littered with the small comedic moments that all butch women attract, the jovial misunderstandings in the women’s changing rooms, the “sir”s and the “Kara, that's a funny name for a guy”s that she would relate at girl’s night until Sam accidentally spat rosé wine down her blouse in hysterics. She took them all in good grace and the spirit to which they were intended, letting them run off her back like rain water.  
Every once in a blue moon, though, there would be an incident that she couldn't bring herself to make a joke out, preferring instead to hide it away inside under a feeling akin to shame, or something that would stick in her skin like shards of glass and have to be picked out piece by piece by her girlfriend, or her sister, or on one memorable occasion, J’onn. These were infrequent, maybe 3 episodes of varying degrees in the whole time she’d been out, but they left their mark.

The first time had been the hardest.

Kara had wanted to see the show since it had been announced that it was coming to National City. Despite what popular opinion would suggest, being butch did not disqualify her from being utterly enamoured with musical theatre; her favourite film had been Cabaret when she had a ponytail and tights, and it was still her favourite film now with a buzz cut and snap back cap. Unbeknownst to her, Lena had sat on hold to the ticket office for 2 hours, making Jess take over when she went into a meeting, endlessly pressing the refresh button on the website in case that worked quicker, and through sheer graft had somehow managed to get stall tickets for the opening night.  
For 4 months, Kara had been waking her lover up every morning singing the title song, often receiving nothing but a pillow to the face for the trouble.

At last, finally, they were taking their seats, plastic cups filled with champagne and bags of candy in hand, the stage lit up with one word, picked out in 6 foot high letters: WILKOMMEN.  
By the time the interval came, Kara couldn't stop smiling. Lena watched her with a hawk-like eye, laughing at the goofy expression, hands clasped together warmly. It stood to be one of the best nights of Kara’s life.  
Which, of course, was when it all went south.

She’d left Lena in their seats, slowly eating through a tiny tub of ice cream which had cost more than a full pint from the supermarket, to make use of the facilities. She’d strode into the ladies, and been almost floored to realise that there was hardly even a queue. ‘Best. Night. Ever.’ she thought happily.  
“Uhhh this is the ladies.” A sharp voice stated. The blonde hadn't even looked up, so lost in her own happiness that it didn't register that the voice might be directed at her.  
“You need to leave. This is the ladies.” The voice repeated, louder this time.  
Kara finally realised that there were multiple pairs of eyes on her, all waiting for an answer.  
She smiled reassuringly. “Yep, that's what it says on the door. It's the ladies, I'm a lady.”  
The woman who had directed the question at her looked on with distaste. She was pretty, in a fragile, feminine sort of way, with lemon blonde hair and hazel eyes the shape of almonds, but the disgust had twisted her features into something akin to ugliness.  
Mercifully, the stall door opened, and an elderly woman with an impressive Betty Grable up-do in steel grey held the cubicle open, nodding Kara forwards with a half-smile. Ducking inside and locking the door, the butch let out a silent sigh of relief.  
It wasn't until she was making her way back to her seat that things sailed fully up shit street.  
As she walked down the aisle, a loud, familiar voice announced: “Look, that was the pervert who was in the Women's bathroom.”  
Kara’s eyes went wide, but her step didn’t falter. She could see Lena a few rows away twisting to search the room for her date. All around, the hum of conversation was reaching deafening levels. Underlining it all was the orchestra, warming up in their pit under the stage. And behind her, much closer than it should have been, a female voice cut through the hullabaloo to shout, “Fucking dyke freak!”  
It was like a kick to the stomach; a horrible sickening drenching acid bath of emotion rolled over her, and she saw Lena’s face change into an incensed rage. She’d heard even from four rows away, Kara’s growing horror noted. The heat of the people now staring at her was cancelled out by the ice cold realisation that her girlfriend had gotten to her feet and was striding towards the scene, arms held tense at her sides. Kara had a fleeting moment of panic that the brunette might actually lay hands on the women who had called her beloved ugly names, but then a warm hand had clasped to her wrist and was kindly but firmly leading her to their row.  
“Darling, ignore them. Ignorant bitches.” Lena stroked the butch’s cheek soothingly. “Can you just stay here for a moment? I'll be right back.”  
Kara tried to grab at the small figure but in her daze she wasn't quite quick enough.  
A few minutes passed, and Lena returned, managing the near impossible feat of looking smug and concerned simultaneously. She leaned close to Kara, tangling their arms together, and placed a small kiss on the bright pink cheek.  
“It's going to be alright, love. I promise.”  
The show was due to recommence when a deep male voice coughed politely, leaning across half of the row to speak directly to the two women clamped tight together in the middle.  
“M’am, we are so sorry for the inconvenience of what happened. The two ladies in question have been asked to leave. They won't be bothering you again.”  
Kara stared over at the heavy set security guard, looking at her with barely restrained pity, and then glanced back to the now empty seats where her tormentors had been sitting. The swell of sadness and fear in her belly expanded to include a splash of guilt, doused in humiliation, but to the man she managed a small smile and a word of thanks.  
She didn't see the rest of the show, although her eyes never left the stage.

“Alex, you weren't there. It was awful. I've never been so embarrassed in my life, and I've done some humiliating stuff in my time.”  
Alex fumed at her sister over a stone cold cup of coffee, but it was clear that she was making a valiant attempt to reign it in. It was 9am the day after The Awful Incident, and Kara had snuck out of her own apartment early enough that she could avoid having to talk to her lover.  
“Those fucking bitches. I wish I'd have been there, I'd have given them something to think about.”  
“Lena got them thrown out.” Kara said glumly.  
The older Danvers sister nodded approval, her eyes narrowing. “Good. But why don't you seem happy about that?”  
The super hero pushed her plate away, the half eaten breakfast setting off alarm bells for her sister.  
“Because she shouldn't have to do that, Alex. It was so embarrassing, so awkward, and she was stuck having to sort it out because of me. She doesn't deserve this.”  
“You don't deserve this, Kara. You don't deserve some ignorant assholes ruining a lovely night because they can't see past their own bigotry. Lena is a big girl, and a big girl who is head over heels in love with you. If she didn't want to be with you, she’d be gone.”  
Kara looked unconvinced. “What if she just feels like she can't leave now? What if she's staying with me out of pity or…or…obligation or something? I can't stand the thought of bringing trouble to her door, I can't stand it.”  
The brunette slammed her cup down, making the other woman jump and finally look her in the eye.  
“Listen to me. Lena loves you. She is in love with you. You do not bring trouble to her door, you bring happiness. Do you honestly think Lena frigging Luthor is the sort of woman to do anything out of _pity _? You are not going to let the ignorance of other people drive a wedge between you. I won't let you. Do you understand?”__  
Kara nodded, tears welling up.  
Alex leaned back in her chair, arms crossed triumphantly.  
“Good. So eat your damn breakfast, and then get your Kryptonian butt over there and talk to your damn girlfriend, ok?”

____

 

Her apartment was still dark when she entered through the window, every curtain still closed and not a light glowing. For a second, Kara thought Lena might have already left, and was poised to fly to the fancy penthouse on the other side of town, when she heard a faint sniffle from the bedroom.  
The young woman was sat on the floor next to the bed, knees hugged to her chest, dampening the noise of her tears in the soft fabric of her pyjama bottoms.  
“Oh Lena, baby, I’m sorry. Don't cry.” Kara said, speeding across the room to pull the femme into her strong arms.  
Lena let herself be held, the sobs ramping up until they were drained dry.  
In the aftermath, a cracked voice whispered, “I thought you’d left me.”  
Kara frowned, burying her nose into long, silky hair and inhaling the sweet scent of coconut shampoo.  
“Why would you think that? I love you, Lena, I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”  
“I don't want you to. But last night, I thought you were angry at me for…for what I did.”  
Kara wrinkled her nose, confusion seeping out of every pore.  
“Lena, baby, what are you talking about?”  
“I caused such a scene, getting those women kicked out. I was just so angry. You don't deserve to be spoken to like that, Kara. They were so unkind, and so bloody _loud_. I didn't know what to do, how to protect you. I could have killed them with my bare hands, if there weren't so many people about. I know it was horrible for you, I knew it, but I still just made it worse, and I am so, so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears followed the apology, Kara making soothing noises into her girlfriend’s hair until the sorrow subsided.  
“Baby, no. You were wonderful and I love that you were looking out for me. I was upset because of what they said, but it hurt that you had to intervene in something that isn't your fight. What if the press had been there? Or they'd gotten violent? If security hadn't been as understanding as they were? It could have become a whole ‘thing’, not just for me but for you too. I'm worried I'm going to make things difficult for you, and I desperately don't want that. I want you to be happy, I don't want you to have to sort out my messes all the time.”  
Lena pushed back, leaning away to properly demonstrate her confusion. “Darling, what are you talking about? It is my fight. It's my fight because I love you, and we’re a team. I will always protect you, just as I know you will me.”  
“But what will everyone think?” Kara asked, her voice barely above a mumble.  
Lena looked a little like Kara had slapped her.  
“I don't care what other people think. Let them think what they want, as long as you love me and want to be with me. As long as we’re happy together and in ourselves, I don't _care_ about other people.” The last words were spat out with venom.  
A smile threatened Kara’s lips, unbidden.  
“You…you do still want to be with me, right?” The youngest Luthor’s voice was dripping with a vulnerability only a select few people got to see.  
Kara pulled her close, wanting to be as firm as possible without causing damage.  
“Yes, baby, of course! Don't you ever doubt that. I love you, more than anything. I'm sorry for making you doubt it, I was just freaking out I guess. Nothing a bit of TLC won't fix. We’ll...we'll get through it together.”  
Lena sniffed damply, wrapping her hands around a torso thick with muscle and squeezing hard enough that it would leave bruises on a human; would undoubtably be bruising her own arms, desperate to make her lover forget the last 24 hours through the sheer force of her love.  
“It's you and me against the world, Supergirl.”  
The butch woman laughed softly. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder to butch women: idiocy is the problem, not you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie122802 suggested writing butch Kara being protective...

It had not been a good day.  
She had been carrying a stress headache around for 2 solid days, and had hardly slept the night before; Kara had been out on Supergirl duties, and she had tossed and turned in the sullen darkness of their room until just before the alarm went off.  
She hadn't even gotten to see the Super before the CEO had had to leave for her bi-monthly Cat Co. day, and the other woman had been a noticeable absence in the office. It was making her grouchy and despondent, and she wasn't sure if it was because she craved the sunny reporter, or if it was due to her growing concern about her reliance on youngest Danvers.  
They spent nearly every night together these days, and were practically co-habiting in the small downtown loft. It was a little disconcerting to know how dependant she was becoming.  
Add to that her monthly, and the last thing she needed, the very last thing, was a confrontation. Nevertheless, here she was, with a fully grown man now towering over desk, finger jabbing the air for emphasis, his voice slowly raising to be loud enough that the seething mass of people in the bullpen outside had begun to quieten and watch the unfolding scene with surreptitious interest.  
“Mr Roberts, would you please lower you voice?”  
This, it seemed, was the wrong thing to say.  
In hindsight, it was a down right stupid fumble for someone who had spent her entire career working with scientists and engineers and cut-throat financiers, all sleep deprived, caffeine riddled and, frequently, dribbling sexists.  
Dan Roberts, a young-ish senior reporter in a crinkled toffee yellow shirt, turned puce almost before she finished the sentence.  
“Who do you think you’re talking to, Luthor?” He shouted, slamming both palms down on the desk. “You come in here, flashing daddy’s cash around in your short skirts, showing your tits to the whole office, and you think that you know a goddamn thing about what sells news in this city?”  
Lena leaned back in her chair, one raised eyebrow the only reaction to the increasingly hyperbolic scene playing out in front of her. In her chest though, her heart was hammering at three times its usual pace.  
“This,” she said, gesturing an open hand at the file laying between them, “is not news, Mr Roberts. This is gossip. I made it very clear that Cat Co. would be moving away from this kind of salacious tongue-wagging when I took over.”  
The man leaned forward, so close now that the young woman could feel his breath on her face, and practically growled.  
“I’ll show you fucking salacious-“  
“That is enough.” A commanding voice echoed across the office. “Get away from her, right now.”  
Lena blinked. Dan Roberts blinked.  
He turned round, slowly, and his brow creased in confusion.  
There, standing less than a metre away from him, was Kara, arms held loosely by her sides, the short, clean fingernails of both hands digging into her palms.  
“Who rang your bell, Danvers? I have some things to say to our esteemed leader, so you can stand there and watch or you can get the hell out.” He hissed, visibly shaking with rage.  
“Mr Roberts, I think you should leave. Right now. We will discuss this when you’ve calmed down.” Lena stated firmly, as she started to rise to her feet, seeing in her minds eye the situation spiralling out of control.  
The man pivoted sharply, anger clouding his features, his finger moving to jab forward again as he continued his rant; the finger hit the Executive's shoulder once, twic-  
There was a flash of movement, and the senior reporter was stumbling back a pace, his left arm twisting down towards his right hip at an unnatural angle.  
“Don’t you _dare_. The lady asked you to leave, Dan. I suggest you follow that advice before this gets ugly very quickly.” Kara’s voice was steady and calm, no hint of the sheer force of pressure that was turning Dan Robert’s red cheeks a pale magnolia as his finger bent against the joint. He nodded, puffing out air like a woman in labour. “I'm going to let go of you now, and I’m telling you, don't touch her again. Don't even think about it.”  
The quiet in the office as the man gingerly straightened up was matched only by the audible silence of the fifty intently listening sets of ears in the bullpen. Dan stood still for a moment, looking down at his finger as the colour trickled back under the skin.  
“I’m sorry. That…that isn't me. I’m not normally like this. I just…I really need a story. My wife and I need the money. We really, really do. But I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have spoken to you or Kara that way. I-I’m so sorry Ms. Luthor.”  
Lena stared at him with cool eyes.  
“Mr Roberts, that kind of behaviour is entirely unacceptable, either inside or outside of a work environment.” The man deflated further. “That being said, I do understand that emotions can run high in this kind of environment. I suggest that you take the rest of the day off. Paid, of course.”  
The reporter cut a small figure, a cross between relieved and utterly defeated as he turned to leave.  
“Make an appointment with Eve on the way out, I’d like for you to sit with James and myself, and also Rachel from Marketing. It isn't a bad article, style wise. I’d like to see what else we could offer you.”  
“Yes. That would be…yes. Thank you, Ms Luthor.”  
The man scuttled out, shoulders hunched.

Neither woman moved a muscle in his absence. Kara knew her lover well, knew the smoothness of her forehead and the tightness of her eyes that showed she was quivering under the surface with stress. Knew by now that Lena in this state had to be approached as one might a wounded animal, with conscious awareness that under the pitiful exterior there were claws.  
“You didn't need to do that, you know. I was handling it.” Lena said after a moment. There was a tremor of barely restrained anger vibrating in her voice.  
Kara smiled tentatively. “I know, it wasn't for you. It was for me. I couldn't just sit there and listen to him talk to you that way. He had no right.”  
There was the faintest flicker of the brunette’s eye lashes, that suggested a momentary break in composure; it was barely even a millisecond, but Kara noticed it and filed it away.  
“Yes, well. Thank you Kara. If that's all, I have a few more things to do here and then I am going to head home.”  
The blonde nodded, pushed her glasses back up her nose, and smiling a puckered half smile that was more a grimace, left without a glance over her shoulder.

By the time Kara got home, Lena was standing in the kitchen with a two thirds full bottle of wine and an almost drained glass in front of her, shoes off and hair in a scruffy top knot. She didn't look up from the IPad resting on the counter in front of her.  
The butch woman put her laptop bag down next to the shoe rack, and kicked off her brown work brogues, before sliding into the kitchen to wrap protective arms around her lover.  
Lena tensed slightly as Kara placed a dry kiss to the small birthmark that resided on the edge of the other woman's hairline.  
“I love this little mole of yours.”  
In spite of herself, the younger woman melted backwards into the blonde’s embrace, letting the strong arms take some of her weight.  
“It's not a mole, it's a birthmark.” She said sulkily.  
Kara smiled into her neck. “If you say so. I still love it.”  
They stood quietly for a minute, the only sound their breaths and the soft smack of the baby-kisses that Kara was using to pepper her girlfriend's neck.  
“You shouldn't have done it, you know.” Lena offered after a while.  
The reporter sighed and stepped back a few paces to lean against the opposite wall.  
“I'm not going to apologise for protecting you.” She said to the femme’s back.  
Lena pivoted then, a look of mild anger on her face.  
“I had it under control, I was _handling it.”_  
“Baby, he touched you.”  
Lena stared at her. “He poked me in the shoulder Kara. He was angry. I had the situation in hand. You don't need to wade in and play the knight in shining armour for me. I am not and never have been some weak damsel in distress.”  
The butch woman looked down at her hands, the fingers twining together anxiously. Lena watched her, curious as to what was going through that brilliant mind.  
What she didn't expect, when Kara finally met her eyes, was defiance.  
“Lena, I _know_ you had it in check. I knew you could manage, I knew you could cope. You are a strong woman, the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Lena. But I love you, am _in love_ with you. I’m never, ever going to be able to stand by and watch someone treat you badly - not because I think you couldn't handle yourself, but because you shouldn't have to.”  
The knot that had been bobbing in her clavicle since the confrontation with the senior reporter pushed unexpectedly into Lena’s throat, lodging just under her voice box.  
“You’re my partner. I'll always be there to protect you, and keep you safe.” Kara continued, before her voice lost a modicum of its confidence. “If you'll let me.”  
“I don't know how to.” Lena whispered around a small sob.  
There was no hesitation on Kara’s part as she swept her girlfriend into her arms, her hand flying to cradle the crown of dark hair. The brunette cried, a little, but even when the tears dried, they stayed clamped together until the hero felt the other woman shifting away.  
“Darling, I’ve never had someone look after me before. Not the way you do. I…I’m so used to coping with everything on my own I don't know how to stop.” Kara frowned at the way the genius's head dropped, the way she couldn't meet her eye. “I’m scared I’ll get so reliant on you that if you leave, I won't be able to go back.”  
Lena quickly found herself wrapped back in those strong arms that she so adored, her head resting on a bony sternum. She breathed in Kara’s scent, the natural scent of her body which was so different to any human’s, a unique smell that reminded her of the salt from the sea and the hot sun after rain.  
“Baby, you are never going to lose me, not if I can help it. I will be here to look after you as long as I live, Lena Luthor.”  
“Promise?”  
“I swear it. You’re my world, and I’m always going to love and protect you provided of course that you still want me to, do you hear?” Lena nodded into the warm wool of the black sweater Kara had worn to work, feeling the hard shape of the tie pin under the fabric pressing into her chin. “Starting with making you dinner while you go grab a bath.”  
Lena smirked, her hands coming round to rub from under the collar of the starched shirt to the short crop of blonde hair. Kara purred at the sensation.  
“Make me dinner?”  
Kara chuckled cheekily. “Well, order it in. Po-ta-to, Po-tat-oe. Then I’m going to tuck us up on the couch with the duvet, and we can watch whatever film you want. Even that really inaccurate one about the superheroes."  
Lena sighed contentedly, feeling the stress of the day finally starting to leak out of her.

Maybe, with a bit of practice, being cared for wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of soppy.


	5. Chapter 5

There are times when even flying just doesn't cut it anymore; those days where she's had one too many dressing downs from Snapper or been just a fraction too slow to save someone as Supergirl, or when she's heard enough derogatory remarks and caught more side eyes than she can brush off.  
Thats when she retreats back to the old DEO, back to the training room with the painful green lights that have almost become a comfort to her. Because it's here where she can finally, against all her genetic odds, sweat it out.  
Sometimes Alex will come with her, or James, or even on one memorable occasion Susan Vasquez (she’d practically had to restrain Lena from going after the woman with a bread knife when Kara came home with a black eye).  
But, mostly, she goes alone; just her, a playlist full of motivational songs, and an hour of gut-busting, bicep-popping, leg-weakening callisthenics.  
It always starts with a run, a 3km usually, or, if it's been a really bad day, a 5km, the precious and terrifying chip of kryptonite shining in the bracelet that Kal had helped her make. It's just enough to make sure she could feel the burn in her thighs and the weight of her own body jolting through her joints. She can't wear it for long though, not without the risk of it doing actual damage, and that's why the old training room had become her sanctuary.

After the cardio, sweat staining the baggy under arms of the tank tops she favours, she flicks on the less-hazardous kryptonite lighting, and settles in to pump out some reps.  
Kara likes to mix it up; she knows as soon as she starts what will suit her mindset that day. Core strength is her favourite: sit ups and bicycle crunches, planks, bear crawls, dead bugs - she loves them all, loves the feel of aching in her abs and obliques afterwards, the feeling like she's been pleasantly roughed up. But some days, inevitably, have to be arm day, or leg day, or worst of all shoulder day (she’d fallen once doing the frog pose, and if the fit Lena had over one black eye was bad, two black eyes and a split lip had been apocalyptic).  
Regardless of favourites and regardless of what workout she does, she always pushes it to the max. The novelty of feeling muscles burning, sweat making her grip on the bars slick, feeling her lungs screaming from sprints, is enough to keep her going hard, especially on the terrible days when she wasn't quick or strong or clever enough to save everybody.

Sometimes, her lover will come with her.  
Not to work out; the CEO was very clear about that. She keeps her shape with crack of dawn runs and living on too much caffeine and too little food.  
She comes to watch, and pretend that that isn't what she's there for.  
But the truth is, once the butch woman has powered through her melancholy, once her skin feels the temperature of a boiling kettle and her blood is sizzling with natural chemicals, she might…play up to it a little.  
The younger woman might be sat on the floor in the corner of the training room, trying to read under the harsh lights, and Kara might suddenly need to stretch, her top riding up over pulsing stomach muscles, her favourite thick grey cotton shorts pulling taut around swollen quads. Or she might accidentally spill a little of her water in her rush to get a drink, the liquid mingling with sweat as it runs down her throat; no ones fault, really. And if after a particularly aggressive round of burpees the blonde has to dip her hand into her shorts to adjust her boxers, giving a flash of the chiselled ‘V’ of her Adonis Belt, drenched and inviting, making the femme drop her book loudly on the concrete floor, well - she isn't _making_ Lena look, is she?

It had been a lazy Saturday, so Lena had managed to arrive at the DEO less than 45 minutes after the text turned up: _Gone to work out, won't be late._  
She’d seen the fight on TV from their flat; had watched nervously the huge frame of the automaton as Supergirl launched it through the air; seen the silver metal of its insides through the gash of skin and muscle as it hit the second floor of a skyscraper, and crashed ungracefully on top of a suburban town car, caving the roof in as if it was tissue.  
There had been four people in the car. A family.  
The younger woman had had the presence of mind to reach out to Maggie Sawyer before heading over to the DEO; the family were fine - scratches and bruises, a broken bone for the youngest child, nothing that would leave a permanent scar either inside or out. In a town like National City, the detective had assured her, it barely even registered in PD paperwork.

The agency was a riot when she turned up, the same as always. The unlucky black clad agents who had drawn a Saturday shift at the dingy site an hour out of the city were doing a good job of hiding their irritation - there is, after all, always something to keep a team busy when they’re sat on top of a Guantanamo bay for high powered extraterrestrials.  
No one challenged her presence as she entered, going through the usual 5 point security checks, chatting affably but politely with the 2 less than enthusiastic men on guard duty.  
By the time she reached the training room, Kara had returned from her run, the green glow through the small viewing windows telling her that much.  
It wasn't until she was close enough to peer through the reinforced glass that she realised how far into the session the butch woman actually was.

She's in the middle of a set of handstand push ups, the far wall at her back for support, fingers leaving indents in the yoga mat as her grip shifts for balance.  
Lena feels something clench sharply just below her gut, but pushes it away quickly. She's here for support, not to fulfil her own base needs.  
Watching Kara move is a sight to behold, though. She herself hadn't been able to do a handstand since she was maybe ten years old, kicking her legs up and holding it for a few seconds, imagining in her ear the cheering of Olympic crowds at this show of gymnastic ability.  
This is not that.  
This is raw strength. This is all tightening muscles and dynamite core strength and fascia snapping. Every lift is a display of ballistic power, and hundreds of hours of practice, and it makes Lena’s mouth go sticky in spite of herself.  
She waits until Kara drops out of the position, all but collapsing into a flat foot squat, her face relaxing into the fully satiated expression that makes Lena guiltily think of more private moments.  
“Hey baby.” The reporter smiles wanly as the brunette opens the door, flicking the head phones out.  
Lena can't help but beam, breathing in the scent of sweat and endorphins hanging thick in the air like pheromones.  
“Hello, darling. I thought you might appreciate a lift if you've been going at it - I've come in the Range Rover.”  
Kara stands up, unselfconsciously pulling off the white tank that was now almost transparent in places, and using it to wick away the moisture at her brow and neck.  
“Only the Rover? How can I possibly allow myself to be seen in that old crate?”  
The younger woman chuckles, batting the other on the shoulder with a flick of her hand. It comes away damp.  
The silence that settles over them quickly turns oppressive.  
“They were ok, you know?” Lena says quietly after a long minute.  
Her lover was staring at her, blue eyes wide and anxious.  
“Everyone?”  
Lena nods, pushing her hands into the pockets of her own jeans. “Cuts and bruises. The little boy had a fracture, but when Maggie left she said he was desperate to make sure he could still go to school on Monday. He wants everyone to know that Supergirl broke his arm.”  
Kara nods once, her expression solemn.  
“It could have been a lot worse, though.” The Kryptonian murmurs, her hands twisting up in the damp shirt.  
“It could have been,” Lena agrees with no pretence, “and it would definitely have been for hundreds or thousands of people if you hadn't done what you did.”  
The hero looks unconvinced.  
“Here, darling, let me.” The femme gently unwinds the cloth from the alien’s hands, and begins to use it to softly wipe away the sheen of perspiration on her lover's shoulders and back.  
Bending to clean tight hamstrings and solid calves, she can feel the ripple of the remaining tension easing under her fingers. With Kara, she knows, exercise could only solve so much of the problem; the rest had to be coaxed out manually with sweet caresses and kind words.  
Stepping in front of the older woman, she drags the greasy top over the pronounced collar bones, mopping out the dips as gently as if she were cleaning bone china.  
Kara sighs at the ministrations, a low, drawn out breath that cracks any resolve Lena had left. Giving in, the business woman places a tender, open kiss on the skin just above the other woman’s heart, her lower lip brushing the moist fabric of the black sports bra.  
The taste of salt laces her lips and tongue, making her crave for more.  
Hands find their way to tangle in her long loose hair, and then warm, wet lips are being pressed against her own painted dry ones.  
Through the haze now gathering around them, Lena hears her lover’s voice, dropped deep and wanting, whisper,  
“Let's go home, Lena.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a very happy chapter either; there's homophobic and transphobic language in here, so just skip it if you think it might upset you.

The boy who’d slapped her quite clearly found it hilarious. It wasn't a hard slap (luckily, or he’d have broken his hand and she’d have had more than a few questions to answer), just a swipe round her head as he walked past her seat. It was a shock, but it didn't hurt. It was the words that came afterwards that did.  
They'd called her “he-she” and “it” and “dyke” and “tranny”. They'd discussed loudly and in detail about how they would “fix her”, what they'd do to her, and how they'd work out what “it” was. And all the while, they'd laughed that stupid cruel bark that Kara remembered painfully well from school.  
She’d had a choice, then: back down, walk the walk of shame and get off the bus, be horrendously late for work; or suck it up and sit it out.  
She’d sat it out.  
The whole 15 minutes until the gang had gotten off the bus had been excruciating. The lone woman had glared at them pointedly, determined to let them know that she wasn't afraid of their childish brand of bullying, but that had made them more aggressive and more forthright.  
No one else on the bus had so much as looked her way, suddenly becoming engrossed in their phones or the passing traffic, and Kara had been grateful for that. She didn't need rescuing and she certainly didn't need to feel the pity of strangers.  
It was just a blessing that the five boys got off the bus before she got to her stop, saving her the humiliation of walking away.  
By the time she got to work, the echoing of the abuse had turned into a cacophony inside her skull, ringing out all the old familiar insecurities, and it was taking a lot of will power not to cry.  
Butches don't cry, she repeated in her head over and over to try and stem the lump expanding in her throat; it was a lie, of course, an absurd stereotype that under normal circumstances she’d rage over, but this wasn't a normal circumstance, and if it kept her from sobbing right there at the reception desk, she’d cling to it.  
She managed to hold it in until she got to the main office’s break room, and then the whole story came out in a rush; most of the people who had gathered around the temperamental coffee machine scattered as soon as the drama started taking shape, trying to look nonchalantly empathetic as they abandoned ship.  
“That's terrible, Kara.” Eve Tessmacher said sympathetically, pushing another donut towards the miserable woman in front of her. “Don't take this the wrong way, but have you thought about dressing more femininely? I mean, I know you like standing out but it's only clothes, isn't it?”  
The hero stared at the secretary, mouth opening and closing, unsure of how to respond.  
Because how do you explain to someone who has never felt the struggle that it wasn't just clothes, or a haircut, or walking like a guy. It was being able to finally be free of the feeling that you were hiding yourself away, burying who you were under skirts and make up and society’s antique ideals of how you should be; it was throwing off the shame that you hadn't even realised you were carrying around, and owning on your sleeve the person you were, the person you wanted to see.  
There wasn't really a way she could see to explain that at 9:15 on a Tuesday morning in a bleak office break room.  
“It's not quite that simple, Eve.”  
The secretary smiled, her hand rubbing the butch woman's forearm comfortingly.  
“It's just, fitting in would be easier, right?”  
Kara knew in her heart of hearts that the woman wasn't trying to be unkind. There wasn't a mean bone in Eve Tessmacher’s whole body.  
But that didn't stop the sting as the reminder that she didn't fit in made its mark. By the time she was filing out of the break room, Kara Danvers felt utterly defeated.

 

The woman who Lena came home to that night was not the same woman she’d kissed goodbye that morning.  
For one thing, the usually sunny blonde was very, very drunk.  
The butch was propped on a stool, half lying across the kitchen island in her pyjamas, a brown bottle of something grey two-thirds empty in front of her. Her eyes were red, though whether from tears or from the alien alcohol it was hard to tell. She looked, to put it mildly, utterly devastated.  
“Darling?” Lena asked tentatively.  
Kara looked over at her but made no move to get up. As Lena watched, the other woman's face crumpled.  
“Oh darling, sweetheart, what's happened?” Tossing her handbag on the couch as she hurried past, she pulled the butch into her arms, the head of close cropped hair coming to rest on her sternum.  
Lena could hear mumbling from somewhere in the region of her cleavage, and if she wasn't so worried it might have seemed funny how quickly Kara had buried herself in her lover’s favourite assets.  
“What was that, darling?”  
Kara moved her face slightly to the left so that she could speak more clearly.  
“Are you ashamed of me?”  
Lena stared at the Super in shock.  
“Of course not! I'm so incredibly proud of you my darling. Why on earth would you ask that?”  
As Kara slurred her way through the story, Lena’s emotions ran from horror to rage, underlined with a sense of complete and utter helplessness.  
The Lena part of her wanted nothing more than to wrap her beloved up in her arms and never let her go, to keep her safe in the bubble of their apartment until society moved forwards. The Luther part, smaller but louder, would burn the whole world the fuck down to get to the people who did this.  
“Those utter bastards. I wish I'd been there, I'd have given them such a dressing down.”  
Sad blue eyes regarded her.  
“You can't be with me all the time, Lena.”  
Lena sighed, audibly.  
“I know darling. Come here.” Lena pulled the other woman to the plump couch, dragging her down into a warm hug.  
After a few beats, Kara spoke again, her voice firm and unwavering despite the alien alcohol that made her eyes glassy.  
“I'm not going back, baby. People like that on the bus, they think not fitting in is the worst thing you can do. But it isn't.”  
The CEO smiled into short blonde hair, breathing in the lingering scent of aftershave that nestled between the strands.  
“Good, you shouldn't change because of what idiots think.”  
“It took me so long to work out who I was and get the strength to embrace it, to be happy. Happier. The people who matter don't care how I look or how I dress, they care how I act, and that's all that matters.” Kara continued, hugging herself into her girlfriend's side. “If I go back now, try and hide again, then all that happens is they win. The bullies win, Lee.”  
“That's very true, my angel. So many people love you just for being you.”  
A beat passed before Kara twisted enough to look into green eyes.  
“But you like the way I dress too, right?”  
Lena chuckled, pressing a damp kiss to her lover's forehead, that left a perfectly in-tact lipstick stain.  
“I love how you dress, and how you wear your hair, and how you carry yourself, darling.”  
The hero stared at her for a second, eyes roving over her features drunkenly.  
Then she nodded, settling in to rest her cheek on the other woman's stomach.  
“See. They're the problem, not me.”  
Lena nodded, squeezing a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short, it's also intensely personal. So rather than get all soppy, all I'll say again is:  
> They're the problem, not you.


	7. Chapter 7

Winn wasn't just drunk. He was next level, spilling his pint drunk.  
Kara tried to stifle a chuckle as he leaned unnervingly close to her sister, his voice high pitched and loud with the liquor.  
“I know you like me Alex. You love me really. You’re like my big sister.”  
The woman's face was stony in the dim light of the bar. She eyed the young man smiling dazedly at her, and then looked pointedly at her sister.  
“If he keeps saying this, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.”  
Kara laughed outright at that.  
It had been a pleasant evening, watching her best friends get very gradually more and more drunk as they celebrated James’s birthday.  
The butch woman glanced over her shoulder to where her girlfriend was trying to show the birthday boy himself the rules of Gaelic football. They'd eventually taken over the chalk board used for darts to illustrate the key points, because if there was one thing worse than a drunk person trying to explain the complexities of a completely foreign sport, it was a drunk person trying to understand them.  
The reporter took a moment to appreciate the younger woman from afar, slightly wobbly on her impressively high heels after the sixth gin gimlet, fitted red dress stopping mid thigh to show more creamy white skin than usual. She’d left her long hair loose in waves with just the hint of a victory curl for the occasion, and the chain of the brand new silver necklace she’d brought that day hung low on her cleavage. It was enough of a vision to make Kara wonder at what point it would be acceptable for her to drag her girlfriend home to their bed.  
“I'm going to go talk to Lena. She understands me.” Winn slurred happily, staggering to his feet and swaying in the direction of the dart board. Alex rolled her eyes, downing the dregs from her glass and gesturing a thumb at the younger man's back.  
“I'll go keep an eye on the wino.”  
Kara smiled and leaned back in her chair, sipping from her club soda. She’d lost her tie shortly after arriving (to James - he was wearing it as a head band even now), and rolled her sleeves up, the expensive tungsten cuff links stowed safely in Lena’s purse, and she was feeling more relaxed than she had done in a while.  
Between work and hero-ing, she’d hardly had a full night with her friends, barely even managing an uninterrupted dinner with Lena that didn't end with her rushing off or the CEO having to cancel to dampen fires in the L-Corp Paris office or the Cat Co stock price.  
Tonight would be different.  
Tonight, J’onn had taken on the Supergirl mantel, and Sam was on call for both L-Corp and Cat Co; aside from an apocalypse level event, both women would be able to enjoy the whole night with their friends, as well as going to bed together and waking up together in the morning. It was bliss.  
A strand of blonde hair had broken free of the pomade hold and was hanging in front of her eyes. Kara pushed it back into place with the palm of her hand, smoothing it down a couple of times until it held, going slightly cross eyed with the effort of trying to see the top of her own head.  
When she looked back to where her friends were huddled, she couldn't help but frown.  
Winn was leaning drunkenly on the shoulder of a tall, well-built blonde man that Kara had never seen before; the man however was focused solely on Lena, his eyes barely leaving her face. A little way away, James and Alex were scowling at the interaction, arms folded in a mirror image of hostility.  
Kara wasn't naturally possessive, but she knew the pang of jealousy well; had known with past lovers and crushes the hot, clawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. But the butch was a rational, thinking being, and a feminist, and she had quickly learned to assess and lock down the feelings of possession that jealousy spawned. Her girlfriend didn't belong to her; the other woman was her own person, capable of her own thoughts and decisions, and no matter how protective the blonde was of the femme’s physical safety, Kara would never try and stop her interacting with other people out of mistrust or fear.  
They had made promises to each other to remain monogamous, and she was going to trust Lena to uphold that as much as she honoured it herself.  
Nevertheless, when the toned, sandy haired man leaned over to place a nonchalant hand on the youngest Luthor’s hip, Kara stiffened.  
Lena was laughing at something he said; Winn was trying to grab the guy's attention back by tugging his muscular shoulder, but without success.  
Trying to appear unaffected, Kara got to her feet and meandered over to where her lover was using the stranger’s shoulder to balance as she adjusted her right shoe. His hand snaked round the lithe waist, quite unnecessarily, in Kara’s opinion.  
When Lena looked up and saw the Super standing a few feet away, her eyes lit up in a way that made the butch woman's heart flip slightly.  
“Darling! Darling come here and meet Simon!” She squealed, waving her arm in a tipsy come-hither gesture.  
Simon looked over and his grin faltered momentarily.  
Kara smiled warmly, reaching an open hand out. The man stared at it for a second before giving it a firm shake, squeezing a little harder than was necessary. Kara’s grin widened exponentially at this attempted display of masculinity.  
“Hi Simon, I’m Kara, pleased to meet you.”  
“Likewise.”  
Next to them, Lena beamed, clearly pleased to introduce her lover to her new friend.  
“Simon plays football, how cool is that?”  
The butch woman smiled fondly. “Like soccer or proper football?” She teased.  
The brunette batted her lover’s shoulder. “Cheeky!”  
The drink had brought out more of the Wicklow accent that she tried so hard to hide in her daily life, and it warmed her partner’s heart. She ran a hand around Lena’s lower back and squeezed, the red material bunching slightly under the bare forearm.  
“Sorry, how do you know Lena?” Simon asked, slight annoyance showing in his voice.  
Next to her, Lena giggled and leaned up to press a kiss to Kara’s cheek, her nose nudging the glasses slightly. When she moved away, Kara could feel the greasy heaviness of residual lipstick on her cheek.  
“Oh gosh, I’m terrible at introductions! Kara’s my girlfriend.”  
Simon’s brow furrowed. “Like a friend who’s a girl?”  
Lena giggled again.  
“No silly, she’s my partner. My lover. My _baby_.” The brunette looked up at the butch woman and twinkled like Kara was the answer to all life's questions.  
“You're a lesbian?” Simon asked, sounding perturbed.  
“I'm bisexual, actually.”  
A smirk spread across the man’s chiselled face.  
“So we can still have some fun-“  
Kara inhaled sharply, anger peaking unexpectedly in her gut.  
“Don't even finish that sentence, bud.” She growled.  
“Hey, just cause you can't keep a woman interested.” The man snorted in derision. “If you could she wouldn't have been coming on to me.”  
“She wasn't fucking coming on to you, she was being friendly, you sleaze.” As she was speaking, Kara realised her voice had raised and she’d pulled the younger woman unconsciously tighter into her side.  
Next to her, Lena pushed herself free of Kara’s grasp, hands moving to rest on hourglass hips. Kara turned to apologise, to beg forgiveness for the uncharacteristic display of proprietorial aggression.  
The femme wasn't looking a her.  
She was looking at Simon. Glowering at him, and if looks could kill, the man would be ash on the ground.  
“You are a very rude young man.” She hissed. “I suggest you fuck off right now before I’m forced to do something I regret.”  
Simon ran a hand through his sandy hair. “I was only thinking that you and me could get out of here and I could show you-“  
“I don't care what you were thinking, Simon. You just disrespected me, and you disrespected my relationship. It's a good job that Kara is so kind hearted or you’d be on your ass right now.”  
The man looked like he was about to retort when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder.  
“Looks like the lady isn't interested,” Alex stated, “so if I was you I’d take it elsewhere.”  
Realising he was in a closing circle of drunks who had decided he’d over stayed his welcome, Simon decided to cut his losses, wandering towards the bar and muttering under his breath. 

Kara watched him go with an overprotective glare. When he disappeared into the men’s toilets she turned back to smile triumphantly at her girlfriend.  
Her girlfriend who was standing with hunched shoulders, twisting her fingers together, and looking a few seconds away from tears.  
“Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong babygirl?” Kara asked, rushing to put her arms around the forlorn looking woman.  
Lena looked up at her from under long, dark eyelashes, and in her eyes Kara saw something akin to fear.  
“You aren't mad at me are you?” She whispered.  
Confused, the butch woman held the CEO at arms length, never breaking eye contact.  
“Baby, no! Why would I be mad at you?”  
“Because…because of what he said. I wasn't hitting on him darling, I promise I wasn't.” There was an almost undetectable wobble in her voice.  
Kara chuckled, pulling her love close to her chest and breathing in the smell of her shampoo and perfume, the bitter scent of juniper underpinning it all.  
“Oh baby, I know you weren’t. Assholes like that just can't tell the difference between a woman being nice and a woman trying to catch their eye, that's all.”  
Kara jumped as a heavy hand was laid on her back, between her shoulder blades, but relaxed when she heard her sister’s voice.  
“I'm going to take the boys home, Kar. James wants to go knock that guys face in and Winn’s just started crying over a beer-mat quote.”  
Kara nodded, leaning down to whisper to her girlfriend, “Lets go home, ok, baby?”  
She felt rather than saw the woman nodding against her chest.  
It took considerably more persuasion to get James and Winn to leave.

The next day dawned bright and sunny; Kara woke up in her boxers and not much else, the sound of loud snoring coming from the woman next to her.  
Lena was sprawled on her back, completely naked, snorts and wheezes coming from her open mouth - something that Kara had early on recognised as the early warning klaxon for a hangover. There were still the hints of make up that she’d been too drunk to wipe off on her mouth and eyes, and she looked boneless and limp as a shell-less clam.  
Kara stretched, soaking in the sun’s rays that sent bursts of energy to her tired cells. It felt like coming alive.  
Then, in preparation, she got up and filled a pint glass with water, placing it along with the pack of painkillers on Lena’s night stand.  
Easing herself back into bed, the butch woman rolled over and softly brushed hair out of the younger woman's face.  
“Baby, wake up and drink some water for me, ok?”  
Lena cracked one eye, but made no attempt to move. Then, without apparently using her mouth, a guttural groan broke forth from her throat.  
Kara chuckled benignly.  
“Come on, baby, there's pain killers there too.”  
With the agility and speed of a glacier, Lena tensed and rolled onto her belly, shoving 2 aspirin into her mouth and chasing them with water. Laying back down, she stared over at the butch woman, unblinking.  
Kara smiled sympathetically. “How are you feeling?”  
“How do I look?” Lena answered without missing a beat.  
The blonde nuzzled into her lover's neck, just below her ear, humming softly.  
“Beautiful.”  
The brunette snorted. “Are you sure you weren't the drunk one?”  
“Sober as a judge, scouts honour. I just appreciate beauty when I see it.”  
Lena shuffled to rest her head on her girlfriend's chest, pulling a strong arm around her shoulders as she did so. “Smooth talker.”  
They stayed quietly like that for a time, the only sounds their soft breaths and Kara stroking her lover's hair gently.  
“Kara?” Lena whispered.  
“Yes, baby?”  
“You know I wasn't flirting with the guy at the bar, right?”  
Kara’s hand stilled.  
“I know, Lena. He was just trying his luck.”  
Lena nodded.  
“And you know that I don't want anyone else but you, don't you?”  
“I hope so, baby. I trust you to talk to me if you ever did.”  
“But I'm not going to.” The femme insisted, pushing herself up onto her elbows to look the other woman in the eye.  
“Good. I can definitely handle that.” Kara smiled a soothing smile, brushing a strand of dark brown hair behind a pale ear.  
“I love you, and you are more than enough to keep me satisfied.” Lena repeated, still looking for reassurance.  
Kara grinned. “I know. And anyway, guys like Simon couldn't handle you. You’d eat him alive. You need someone who knows what they're doing.”  
Lena blinked, apparently lost for words, and then she cackled.  
“You're very sure of yourself.”  
“Let me prove it, then, if you don't believe me .” Kara said, pulling the other woman within millimetres of her lips.  
“If this is your reaction, I'm going to let people hit on me more often.”  
Kara laughed, trying to look indignant and failing.  
As Lena closed the gap to press their lips together, Kara silently thanked Simon for giving her another excuse to claim her girlfriend's affections.

As she rolled to pin the lady underneath her, mouth moving to press hot, damp kisses over her lover's throat and clavicle, she thanked Lena for reminding her that such fidelity was a gift.

And as Lena began to move her hips, firmly, rubbing damp strokes against the butch woman's naked thigh, Kara thanked the world at large for giving her this life.


	8. Chapter 8

The drone of the clippers was a comfortable hum in Kara’s ears, bringing back memories that she hadn't had time to rake over often. Mainly, the only time she thought about the past few months was at the bi-monthly haircut, with the threshing of the scissors and razors acting as a catalyst.

It had been a year since she’d first sat on this same stool in Alex’s bedsit, watching blond curls fall to the floor like rain.

So much had changed in that time - in the way she spoke about herself, the way she thought about her place in the world and carried herself through it; and yes, sometimes in the way that world reacted to her was different. But at the brass tacks, in most ways, it was like nothing had even happened.

Over the sound of the clippers, she could hear her sister bickering amicably with her girlfriend as they poured over some new article or other about the origin of the species. Kara was still a respected reporter; still had the same friends and acquaintances, the same late night bar trips and games nights and heart-to-hearts, and Supergirl still had her share of enemies. Kara Danvers-Zor-El was still loved, and still loved in return.

Life felt at once normal and, when she thought about it, so much more.

In the deep pocket of her mustard yellow chinos, Kara could feel the sharp edges of the ring box burning a hole. Tonight was going to be the night. She looked over at Lena who was animatedly trying to Google a fact to prove herself right (and more importantly, Alex wrong), in her comfortable hoodie and a pair of Kara’s shorts, hair in a messy bun and thick rimmed glasses hanging on the end of her nose, and felt the old familiar thrill of butterflies.

Yes, the butch woman thought wistfully. Life these days was the same, yet so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading.
> 
> Unless there's anything anyone specifically wants to see, I'm going to draw a line under this little series here, or risk posting indefinitely until either I or my phone crumbles to dust. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who kudos'd and commented, you guys are epic!


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